


I'm so Warm with You

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Coming In Pants, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, PWP, Practice Kissing, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 01:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Taron's got an idea.





	I'm so Warm with You

**Author's Note:**

> had this funny little idea of them "practicing kissing" and well, I ran with it. this is ofc fictional. 
> 
> big thanks to Hannah for beta'ing and to Pip for enabling! 
> 
> enjoy!

“I’ve got an idea,” Taron starts.

Richard swallows his sip of beer. “Do tell.”

Taron falls silent and Richard lets it go easily, made loose-limbed and relaxed by the number of beers buzzing in his system. The telly is a dull drone before them and Richard feels comfortable, happy, content to sit with his elbow brushing Taron’s.

“It’s rubbish,” Taron says a few minutes later.

“What’s rubbish?” Richard asks as he takes another swig of beer. He’s forgotten what they were talking about.

Taron sighs. “My idea.”

“Right.” Richard tips his head back to finish off his beer. When he’s smacking his lips with a pleased hum, he realizes Taron’s watching him. “What? Out with it, then.”

“Maybe we ought to kiss.”

Richard raises an eyebrow. “Come again?”

Taron visibly steels himself. His fingers flex on the neck of his own bottle and he shifts, fidgeting in his seat as he does when he’s nervous. “We’ve got...a lot of kissing scenes, you know.”

“Aye, I know.”

“So I was thinking…” Taron trails off and his gaze lists to the other side of the living room, away from Richard.

“Tha’ we should kiss?”

Taron nods. He’s clearly trying not to pout. “Told you it was rubbish.”

Richard plucks Taron’s beer from his twitching fingers and sets it on the coffee table in front of them, beside his own. “Not rubbish. Not a bad idea, actually.” When Richard looks up again, Taron seems stricken.

“Really?”

Richard grins. “Practice makes perfect, doesn’ it?”

Taron’s eyes are endearingly wide. “Right. Yes. Exactly.” He scoots minutely closer and his hand lands high on Richard’s thigh—Richard is about to make a comment about it, except Taron suddenly looks scandalized with himself. “Oh my god.”

Richard just laughs and reaches for Taron, cupping the stubbled line of his jaw. “Donnae worry about it, Taron.” For good measure, he winks, and it’s as Taron’s spluttering and blushing that Richard leans in and brushes a tentative kiss over his lips.

Taron’s breathing hitches and it spurs Richard on, not only because of the heat thrumming inside him at the sound but at the delight of wringing such a reaction from Taron.

Not that it’s hard to get a reaction out of the other man, as Richard’s learned easily over their fast friendship. He’s quick to react, easy to make laugh and so empathetic it’s truly sickening, in the best sort of way. Admirable, Richard might even say.

The kiss is gentle, as are the second and third kisses. Lips on lips, simple and lovely but not enough. Richard knows Taron’s got more in him, wants to bring it out, wants—

“Stop thinking so hard and kiss me, you prick,” Taron mutters.

Richard laughs before obliging. He surges forward and kisses Taron firmer, licks his way into the other man’s mouth—much to Taron’s surprise, judging by the sound of surprise that slips out. Richard resists the urge to grin again and tilts his head. Carefully he pushes Taron back until he’s pressed against the arm of the couch and Richard’s caged between his legs.

Taron moans and Richard responds in kind when one of Taron’s hands finds his hair, tugging gently.

“That’s it,” Richard says, breaking the kiss only long enough to get the words out before diving back in. Taron melts beautifully beneath him, legs spreading wider and mouth opening as if Richard could deepen the kiss any further.

“Fuck, Dickey,” Taron huffs. It’s half a laugh and half a moan and Richard can’t get enough of the tremble in Taron’s voice. Even so, Richard likes kissing him more, and does so. He sucks the moans from Taron’s mouth as quickly as they come, bites at Taron’s lovely bottom lip and drinks in his answering whimper.

“Fucking perfect,” Richard growls. Somehow he’s got one hand on Taron’s hip, under his shirt, skin on skin. His other hand is still cupping Taron’s jaw, thumb stroking along the barely-there stubble. He pulls back to admire the flush on Taron’s cheeks, the kiss-swollen shape of his mouth. “Look at ya,” Richard murmurs.

“Look at me?” Taron laughs. “Look at _you_!” Taron tugs pointedly at Richard’s hair. His eyes are dilated, crazed, his whole body shaking with excitement in Richard’s arms.

“Practice is going well, then?” Richard asks. He gives into the urge to lean in and brush a kiss against Taron’s cheek, his jaw, his earlobe. “And you though’ this idea was rubbish.”

“You can tell me what a fool I am later,” Taron says before turning his head and catching Richard’s lips in a kiss again.

This one’s a little softer but it has Richard rock fucking hard in his trousers. He lets Taron lead, tries for a moment to think of it like acting, like they’re on set surrounded by cameras and Dex and Matthew—but that train of thought quickly goes out the window. Kissing Taron is addictive, heady; Richard kind of never wants to stop.

Taron whines and the kiss deepens, still slick and heated but with this wonderful softness. It’s a hallmark of Taron that Richard’s come to adore, this gentle side to the man who could so easily be a right prick.

“Richard,” Taron breathes, brushing his nose against Richard’s. “Fuck.”

“Mm,” Richard hums agreeably. He’s so hard and a quick rut forward tells him Taron is too. “This is a bit more than practicing.”

“We ought to be naked,” Taron says instead. “We’re going to have to be naked on set.”

Richard nods slowly. He’s distracted by Taron’s flushed, wet lips, and the knowledge that Taron’s sporting a semi beneath him.

“Richard, you’re not saying anything.” Taron giggles, but there’s an edge of hysteria to it. The way he only sounds when he’s nervous and sloshed.

“Bit much for the first practice, in’it?” Richard asks instead.

“You’re hard,” Taron points out.

“Fair.” Richard steals another kiss. “But what kind of man do ye take me for, Egerton? The kin’ who puts out on a first date?”

Taron’s lips do a funny thing, like he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or moan or speak. He evidently decides on the latter option. “Maybe.”

Richard ducks his head and laughs against Taron’s collarbone. “Not quite, darling.”

Taron shivers beneath him and that’s nearly enough to get him to change his mind. Richard shakes his head slightly to clear his thoughts and leans back.

“We’re drunk,” he says.

Taron nods.

“Moving a wee bit fast.”

Taron nods again, looking a bit chastised.

“Not tae say I don’ fuckin’ love this.” To prove his point, Richard steals yet another kiss, even lets Taron deepen it until they’re both squirming, hips tentatively grinding together. They gasp together and _god_ does Richard wants to continue. He forces himself to draw back. “ _Fuck_ , Taron.”

Taron moans quietly. His arms are looped around Richard’s neck now, playing with his hair and tugging at his shirt.

“Not getting naked,” Richard tells Taron as seriously as he can manage. “But I willnae tease ye if ye come in yer jeans.”

“I’m not making any such promise,” Taron tells him before grinding up and gasping when their cocks brush together through their trousers. He hooks a leg over Richard’s waist and presses him closer with a foot on his arse. “C’mon, I’m not gonna break.”

Richard dives back in and kisses the next gasp from Taron’s plush lips. He ruts his hips forward and lets his hand slide from Taron’s waist to cup his arse instead. There’s nowhere to go but closer, closer, _closer_ , and Taron whines beautifully into his mouth. Richard hasn’t done anything like this since he was a bloody teenager but god does it make his head spin. Taron’s back is arching and pressing up into him; the kissing turns sloppy and slick, downright filthy.

“Fuck, fuck, Rich, gonna come.”

“Do it, darling.” Richard bites at Taron’s bottom lip again and the younger man cries out, bends his back like a bow.

There’s a wet heat spilling between them and Richard lets out a groan of his own. He hides his face against Taron’s neck and pants breathily as his orgasm washes over him and stains the front of his jeans.

Their hips keep rolling even after the aftershocks wear off but eventually Richard settles down on Taron. They’re quiet for a moment before Richard finally leans away from Taron’s neck to look at him instead, and Taron sneaks a gentle kiss.

“Brilliant idea,” Taron says. “Dunno what I was so nervous for.”

Richard laughs.


End file.
